


When Dolls Talk

by SpankinHotDudes



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: (well mentions of Human Experimentation), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood, Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human Experimentation, IF YOU DON'T READ THE TAGS I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE STRATOSPHERE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, Its fucking Resident Evil of course there's going to be human experimentation mentions, Leon S. Kennedy is NOT fragile, M/M, Misogyny, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not Beta Read, Objectification, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexist Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Torture, Trans Character, Trans Male Author, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, Warnings May Change, read the tags, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankinHotDudes/pseuds/SpankinHotDudes
Summary: In which the world once again fucks over Leon S. Kennedy, but what else is new?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna and might be OOC as fuck I don’t know I’v been feeling sad, empty, and having ne energy for the longest time. I know I should sit down and finally watch ALL the Resident Evil cutscenes, but I have no energy to and I’m too angry. So this is more of a vent piece so don’t expect anything grand. This will probably FOR NOW be a one-off chapter and concept. I will continue this plot later down the line when I've watched all the cutscenes and have a better understanding of Leon’s personality and the Resident Evil world in general. This work is inspired by Momoyama Jirou original illustrated works so if you have ever read his work you know the plot to this already in a way. This will take place after Resident Evil 6 and as for the mission when (spoilers) ……. All his men died so Vendetta kinda never happens. So that's where I’m putting the timeline. So I will make him 38. Also Leon is a trans male but hes also sexist and homophobic. He has his reasons.
> 
> Also inspired by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)

He honestly couldn’t believe it not that he minded at all. No, of course he didn’t mind why would he? He was only ever a slave to DSO and the government. Forced to work with no regard for his safety, losing the years of seeing his daughter becoming into an adult only to see her in all this shit, all the death’s haunting him, the lies, the manipulation, the pain, everything so he should be happy.

He’s laughing now hysterically as he grabs a vintage bottle of whisky not even caring to get a shot glass, because he’s not going to use it. The whisky is probably the most expensive thing in his shitty apartment. Being the governments lapdog paid good, but why waste the money buying anything nice? He was always on the move never staying in one place for too long and it got worse after the president died. Why spend money on supposed designer expensive clothes when they would only get dirty by the blood of zombies and monsters.  
The only expensive clothing he ever bought was the fur jacket which he wore all the time, but that was before the Spain mission. He couldn’t sleep he always had nightmares of watching Luis die and having to kill Krauser. When he wore and saw the jacket it made awful memories flow back in so he threw it away.

Ha ha ha, just like how the government and DSO threw him away as if he were a piece of clothing to be used and tossed away for the next new designer clothing that was in style. He knew he was expendable, but it hurt so much. 

Then again why let a ptsd riddled agent who got his own team killed be kept. It wasn’t only just that he knew it was also the self-harm, the fact that he was trans which his superior detested and always called him tranny when given the chance. Leon cried a bit inside every time the slur was uttered to him, but he kept it to himself. Still another weakness of him being a freak to almost everyone he knew. More and more reasons of how worthless he was stewed in his mind.

He was nothing more than a broken soldier.

He sits down now on the uncomfortable wooden chair that creaks ever so slightly. The uncomfortable feeling will soon go away though as he drinks. Sweet bitter liquor to drown out his sorrows even if it lasts only a day. He knows he will wake up with a massive headache and will probably vomit on all his clothes before passing out on the bed. It may be gross, but he was so used to being bathed in his own vomit that it didn't even phase him anymore. 

Being covered with blood, bodily fluids from monsters, guts for so long in his career makes the vomit seem like just water spilled on him. At least he knows the vomit won’t have a chance of infecting him. Well if that isn't the most depressing thought he’s had all week.  
Who knows maybe he will finally kill himself with alcohol poisoning. What a weak way to go. Not killed by a monster, zombie, bullet wounds nothing heroic like that just plain old alcohol poisoning doing him in. He starts to softly cry, but that quickly stops as he picks up the bottle and takes a swig of it. 

It feels like pure ecstasy in his throat as it goes down to his stomach. A pleasant harsh burn showers his mouth and throat. The pain feels so good one might think he’s a masochist. They wouldn’t be wrong either hurting himself by way of cuts and alcohol made him feel so good. Destroying his own body on his own terms feels as good as sex. The high of being in control of himself losing a sense of time as he cuts and drink away his own sorrow. Hell sometimes if its cheap shitty tasting whisky he throws the damn thing to break it and then uses the glass shards to cut himself. 

He slowly drinks more alcohol letting himself savoring the quality of it. Shit better be good for spending two thousand dollars on it. He coughs up a bit at the lack of air he gave himself. He greedily breaths in air as much as he can his throat now feeling sore not that it's going to stop him till his belly is pleasantly warm. He can taste the pleasant slightly sweet taste of the apple that was juiced into the whisky. It tastes real which is probably why it was so expensive it didn't taste like fake shit thats found in cheap ciders. He cries a bit but tries not to feel any sadness so he drowns himself in more of it. He finally stops when he notices about half the damn liquor is gone. He drank to much he can tell by the bial going up his throat.

He tries his best not to hurl. He tries to hold it in only to try to make it to the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it in time. 

Vomit gets everywhere over his clothes, floor, table fucking everywhere. It's mostly liquid though since he hasn't eaten today. Well he hasn’t been eating much in general. A putrid stench fills the whole room. He keeps hurling for a solid minute his stomach feeling empty as it goes down. Once he eventually stops he sees the white yellowish color. The site would make any normal person want to vomit even more, but this par for the course in his shitty life. Ultimately he’s now empty inside no solid emotion. He feels himself blacking in and out of consciousness. He guessed that maybe this time he drank to quick given how fast his body succumbed to the abuse. He’s been drinking exceedingly more since his termination not that he cares. Of course he doesn’t care he reminds himself. 

The smell gets to him though and he doesn’t care if he’s blacking out he will shower. He doesn’t care if he falls and cracks his head against the cool ceramic tiles of the wall or the floor. Maybe that's a good thing putting himself out of his worthless miserable existence. He’s a mess, but today he wants to feel at ounce less of a mess.

He goes to the bathroom opening the cold knob which makes him shiver a bit at the stark contrast of temperature. He enters and yep as drab as ever not that he minds its basic, but practical. Only girls and fags have cute little decorated bathrooms. The same goes for his shampoo, soap, and conditioner it's cheap generic store brand shit. He used to buy more expensive hair and body care, but what’s the fucking point? He hasn’t had sex in ages. That fucking bitch Ada is somewhere out there he can’t help, but yearn for her the manipulative cunt. He likes that though doesn’t he being used and thrown away. 

He makes sure to buy the scentless shit no need to smell like those rich assholes that smell of spice or some shit. It also helped to make sure zombies and other monsters don’t track his scent as easily. Well not that he has to worry about that anymore, ha. He tries not to think about that shit and tries to focus on cleaning his damn body.

He squirts a big dollop of shampoo lathering it all over his hair. He roughly scrubs his scalp making sure none of the weeks stink remains on his hair. He feels dirt and other shit mixed into his hair from not showering for a solid two weeks. He looks down at the water to see tiny pieces of dirt and food flow down the drain. Shit he didn’t even know it could get that dirty from doing nothing. Taking care to not smell like absolute shit is one of the few self-care things he those, but it's mostly so those around him don’t have to smell his stench. His head aches now not only because of the hangover, but also the harsh scrubbing he gave to his head.

He gives his head a break though as he gets the conditioner. He slowly and gently massage it into his head making sure it gets to all the knots. He uses his hands to comb out the knots as the conditioner aides in the process. He meticulously combs out the knots. It feels surprisingly relaxing and nice to do. His body loving the gentleness of it and the break from constant abuse. Leon then lets the conditioner rest in his hair.

He goes to the body scrub sponge and lets it get wet as to let the soap lather and get at the dirt and the other dirty stuff off his body. Before he uses it though he uses the water to take off all the vomit from his face. While most of the vomit was liquid there were minute pieces of food chunks on his face so he didn’t want the scrub to get and of it in it. He would already have to wash the damn thing in the public washer downstairs no need to have any chunks in it. He hoped the chunks and hair wouldn’t plug up the drain. While he had the money it would be fucking embarrassing and nasty for the person cleaning it to find all of that. 

He grabbed the scrub putting a generous amount of liquid soap on it. Whatever gentleness he had for the conditioning it broke by him furiously scrubbing every inch of his body as if he were doused in bleach. The pain felt good in a sick way abusing his body again. He always found a bit of pain to be the best way to relax. Well second best first being expensive, strong, quality liquor. He felt so damn dirty he just wanted to get all the stink off him as soon as possible. He started first with his face. Ya he heard of all that girly hygiene shit about how bad it was to harshly scrub it, but he didn’t give a fuck.  
That's what women would do. Make sure their soft faces were free of any blemishes god forbid any pimple be on them. Just another thing to add onto why he loved Sherry and Claire. They never worried about something a superficial as a fucking pimple they weren't slutting it up like some of the other women he’d seen. He’s sure though that they did use some cream and other shit of course, but Claire and Sherry as far as he seen never wore makeup. All natural nothing to hide the imperfections. 

As for men well it was one thing to be clean shaven and putting a bit of cream, but if men went through of trouble with fucking face masks, exfoliate, the same things women did then well they must be either the bottom of the relationship or worse the bottom to a fucking man. Making themselves look pretty and shit only for their ripped hand- freak giant of a man to ram their big fat jui- disgusting std ridden cock into their gaping mouths and it wouldn't be just one. Oh no. Those fags are probably all just man whores letting themselves fuck or be fucked by any fucking willing cock in the vicinity. 

He kept scrubbing until he went to that part of his body. That fucking part that didn't belong. The fucking puzzle piece that didn’t fit. The only black sheep of the pure white herd. His fucking pussy he started at it with such hatred the he started at his dick. Ha, who was he kidding it was just an enlarged clit from his T-therapy it wasn’t the real thing. His “dick” wasn’t even that big compared to other trans men. Fucking lucky bastards probably had more time to spend on it than him.

Time man that was a thing he had now and he fucking hated it. He hates it and loves it. No longer having to travel. No longer having to go places. Just stay here where he should belong away from all the assholes of society. 

Haha it was so funny. So very funny. He started to laugh, and laugh and laugh.  
He couldn’t stop laughing it was fucking hilarious it was it really was. He hit the cheap tile hard cracking it a bit and the ceramic dig into his fist making blood drop from it. 

He slowly descended to the floor. He was kneeling now his back hunched and fists and forearms lay against the cold unforgiving wall tile. His knees and calves trying their best to support his body so he wouldn’t crash down head first. 

He wanted to though. Oh how he longed for his body to give in so his head could ram in face and head first into the wall. To fucking finally put him out of misery, but he didn’t. He couldn’t decide if he was a coward for wanting to kill himself or a coward for not doing it. He got up not wanting the lower half of his body to stew in the filth. He quickly scrubbed himself again getting everywhere and stopped till he deemed himself fully clean. 

Once he got himself dried off he quickly went to his to get his a pair of shitty boxers and some pizza grease stained shirt. 

He darted towards his bed quickly covering himself to feel warmth. The warmth was a blessing from the chilly apartment so now he was content. 

He tried his best to keep the bad thoughts and nightmares away, so he tried to stay up. But his headache came back all to sudden and before he knew he blacked out and fell into a deep slumber. 

He was so unconscious that he didn’t even hear the doorknob shaking.


	2. Cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter.

Leon awoke from a long slumber filled with countless nightmares. Dreams of Luis dying again, Tyrants tearing him apart, Those assholes from the government raping him again. He can feel sweat all over his body probably from the night terrors. There never was a night of sleep that wasn’t infected with nightmares for as long as he can remember. He never let it get to him on a mission though. He had to stay headstrong and in control for the sake of Sherry. Now though he can cry and not care. He doesn’t have to hold it in. 

What a fucking pussy he was.

It all wouldn’t matter in the end though. He was done with life. So many years of fighting, death, betrayal had finally gotten to him. He just didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. His body and mind shutting down little by little ever since the DSO fired his sorry ass. Maybe he shouldn’t even blame the DSO on that. His mind has been slipping since he started working for the damn government. It must of all manifested and come full force when he was tossed aside like bad meat. With all things said however in the end it all didn’t fucking matter.

Soon he was going to finally end his misery. He welcomed death now more than ever. He knew suicide was a cowards way out, but he honestly didn’t care anymore. He felt so used and abused he wanted to be free from this world.

The zombies, the experiments, monsters, the tyrants, the viruses. No matter how much he fought it never ended. It was like a Hydra, cut one organization off and then assholes come out the woodwork's. So what was the point of it all really in the end? It would never end. It never ends. Now though he couldn’t even help fight it though. This is all his fault on why he was thrown away.   
Hell he even had to kill his best friend. He had to kill the president. His one fucking job and he couldn’t even do that right. He never did anything right in his whole life. His whole life was a comedy of errors. He couldn’t me a good cop, spy, soldier, parent, bodyguard. No Leon Scott Kennedy was nothing more than a failure.

He started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed slowly turning into hysterics. His hands clung to the stained blanket. Said blanket just like his whole bed and pillows are stained with blood, vomit, and alcohol. He started not bothering to take the stains off the cheap shit. What was the point if it was going to get stained so often anyways. He knew he could just buy another blanket, but he didn’t give a shit. He started loudly sobbing now snot and tears running down his face. 

The crying wouldn’t stop he just kept going for so long. He then started screaming in anguish at his situation making his throat hurt. He started to use his nails to dig and scratch wildly on his arms trying to draw blood, but it wasn’t working. His nails to dull from cutting them off so his hands didn’t look fucking girly. After awhile he finally stopped his emotional breakdown. Though he didn’t feel any better, but he had to get up and start preparing for his death.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon dressed in self in a white tank top that was also stained and some black shorts. The perfect and comfy pair of clothes to wear for cleaning. He was barefoot though as to not slip and slide on the wooden floor. He wasn’t going to die from some stupid common accident. No he’s going to die by his own hands.

Leon had just gotten back from the store near his apartment to buy an assortment of cleaning supplies. This time he splurged as much as possible wanting the house to look as clean as possible and to smell good. Hell he even bought candles to light up so the room could smell good in a natural way. He wanted his place to look absolutely spotless and not like some slob who had no control over his own life. It was going to be tough though. 

Bottles of cheap beer, expensive wine, and all sorts of liquor littered the floor and whole apartment. There was broken glass from said bottles scattered throughout the house which would be a bitch to sweep up and to get all of it. He would probably step on some which would slice up his feet not that he cared. Old take-out boxes also littered the whole room. Practically every inch of his apartment was a mess. 

He noticed that there was some of his blood that stained the walls. Thank God he bought heavy duty cleaner for the job. He then looked at the floor which was covered from last nights vomit. It smelled horrendous, but it was nothing Leon couldn’t handle. He just hoped that the vomit hadn’t stuck onto the floor. He would have to scrub hard if that were the case. Thankfully he bought like 50 sponges for the job. One would think it was overkill, but not for his mess of his apartment which might as well have been called a pigsty. 

This was going to be a LONG day of cleaning.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon first started on the floor sweeping up and sometimes by hand picking up the glass shards and then putting it into a huge trash bag. He ignored the vomit and blood stains for now he would be doing that after all the glass was cleaned up. He also found several dead and alive cockroaches the alive ones he would go and grab his shoe to kill them. Into the bag they went.

He then got started on the floor thankfully since it was dark oak there wouldn't be any visible long lasting stains. He grabbed the bleach and pine cleaner and poured all the liquid on the floor before getting a mop to clean the whole mess up he would even have to get on his knees to really scrub off the old dried up vomit and blood. He then decided to wear shoes at last since he was tired of cleaning the blood left by his foot from stepping on glass. He guessed it took about three hours by that point he was exhausted from all the mopping and sweeping, but he wouldn’t stop until his whole apartment was clean. Thankfully the whole apartment was very small which was a huge relief less to clean that way.

Leon then moved onto his small kitchen counters doing the same thing. Throwing away empty bottles, glass, boxes. Vigorously washing away dried up food and more blood. That took less time thankfully, it took about two hours. He moved on to the bathroom, bed, everywhere by the time all was said and done it had taken him about eight hours in total.

He had already thrown away anything that contained any stains it didn’t matter what be it clothes, pillow cases, blankets. Everything he threw away for the sake of making everything look clean. He also organized the books on his shelf and the clothes in his drawer. He finally decided on going out and buying clothes and new pillow sheets plus a bunch of other stuff to make it appear that he had a normal life. This also meant buying healthy shit for his refrigerator that wasn’t just alcohol and junk food.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had finally gotten back from shopping which was a fucking nightmare from bumping into people and having to hear Mom’s complain about coupons those fucking annoying bitchs. 

Oh well today now he would relax and plan out his demise over the weekend.


	3. Bad Nights

Leon knocked out again tired from the long day of arduous cleaning. He was profusely from strenuous physical activity. His body twitched and turned erratically despite his body begging him not to move and to just relax. He couldn’t help it though he was having another nightmare again.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sherry! Sherry! Don’t let go!” Leon held tightly in Sherry's hand dragging her as the hall flooded with all sorts of monsters from tyrants to zombies to lickers. They were speeding up chasing them probably to rip them to pieces. 

They ran as fast as their legs would let them. Always running never resting such is their life. This was the same life Sherry had to live now being used the same way he was. He blamed himself for not being there for her. For not being able to talk the government out of using her this way. He didn’t know though they always kept secrets from him. The only thing he knew was that Sherry was alive and in good health. He cursed himself for not looking in to deeper for not knowing what they were making her do.

They kept running turning sharp corners of the hallways. They were both out of ammo and weapons. He had to keep Sherry alive even if it meant him dying. He didn’t care about living his whole purpose was to protect his daughter. 

As they were running her heard Sherry cry out. He quickly looked back to see a Licker had sank its teeth into her soft flesh. Leon quickly kicked the thing hard he squashed the Lickers head, but unfortunately the monsters caught up to them.  
A tyrant grabbed Leon and hurled him to a wall. Leon’s body froze at the pain as he hit the wall, but somehow his body didn’t just break. He quickly scanned over to Sherry oh God oh God why!

Fucking why! Why was this happening! No! No! No!

In front of him Sherry was being ripped apart. Her legs being torn off and then eaten by the zombies and lickers. It was absolute carnage there was blood everywhere under his daughter. 

“Leon run! Forget about me just go! Go!” She begged looking at him with despair.

Her pleas stopped when a tyrant relentlessly punched her in the face and stomach, but not enough to kill her instantly. This fucking sadistic beast! This fucking monster! Leon quickly tried to make a beeline to Sherry, but he knew deep down it was too late. He couldn't even get five feet to her before a tyrant put a foot on his back which held him there. This thing, 

It was going to make him watch his daughter be tortured to death.

A licker then used its long, sharp claws to scratch and rip at Sherry’s stomach. A zombie took a big chunk out of her neck. Leon screamed in despair. He truly couldn’t do anything.

His whole reason for living. The person he went through hell for. The innocent child who didn’t deserve this. He failed her. Like he failed everyone. 

He truly was a useless human being.

**Author's Note:**

> So tell me how ya think I handled Leon's character and the chapter in general.


End file.
